Over the hills and far away
by EugeniaVictoria
Summary: They say travel broadens the mind... but what else is in store for the wayfarer? A month after their passionate night and Rhett's hasty departure, Scarlett decides to take matters into her own hands, not knowing that the journey she's about to embark upon might lead her to the one place that truly matters: where the heart is. ON HIATUS UNTIL 'REDEEMING LOVE' IS FINISHED.


_**"The only journey is the journey within." Rainer Maria Rilke**_

* * *

_**Chapter 1: Wanderlust  
**_

* * *

Waving Melanie goodbye, Scarlett looked after the retreating carriage for a moment before she turned around to face the enormous mansion she called home.

Wide eyed, she gazed at it with a look of wonder and stunned disbelief, not quite sure what to make of her own creation. What on earth had possessed her to design such a ... palace in the first place? Oh, she still found it beautiful - it was a symbol of everything she had lacked and longed for in the bitter days of war - but these days, the sheer size of it seemed to weigh her down.

She was reluctant to go in, but it couldn't be helped. After another long day of making calls with Melanie, she needed rest. And after all, she could hardly stay out here forever. Sighing, she lowered her eyes and started walking along the pathway to the front entrance with steps as heavy as those of an old man. She fumbled in her purse with tired fingers, but before she could even get out the keys the heavy door was opened by Mammy, whose huge form was a comfortable sight.

The old woman welcomed her with a smile.

"Miss Scarlett," her husky voice thundered pleasantly through Scarlett's body. "How's ma lamb?"

Scarlett simply shrugged.

"Well?" Mammy guided her charge inside, patting her shoulder. She added sceptically, "How was ma lamb's day?"

"Oh, Mammy, Mammy," Scarlett said, leaning towards her. "It was terrible." She was going to say more about the tedious and boring affair that had been Mrs. Meade's weekly sewing circle and, to top it all off, Mrs. Merriweather's reception afterwards, but she restrained herself. Instead, she simply buried her head in Mammy's neck, breathing in her scent and enfolding her in her arms as best she could. There was no embrace quite as comforting as Mammy's...

Well, maybe one other, but she refused to think about it.

"There, there," Mammy mumbled, "Ah's gonna fix ma lamb a good dinner, and then you's gonna feel much better."

"Oh, no, Mammy, I ate at the reception."

Mammy gave her a disapproving look. "You's gonna eat, and if Ah have to feed you ev'ry bite. Ah can see you haven't eaten much. Not hardly enough, Ah's sayin'."

"Very well," Scarlett retorted relented, albeit with an imperial tone, too tired to put up a fight but unwilling to give in so easily. "But I'll have dinner in my room."

Without sparing the old servant another glance, she began to ascend the staircase, failing to notice the deeply worried expression on Mammy's face. She dragged herself to her room and let Pansy help her undress, then dismissed the maid and sat down on her bed.

Waiting for Mammy to arrive with her food, Scarlett could not help feeling oppressed by the fluffiness and obtrusive colours of her overly feminine bedroom. The yellowish glow of the lamplight seemed to be mocking her, the mere sight of the dusky pink walls caused her head to throb with pain. She did not know what was wrong with her, for she loved this room, had always loved everything about it. But now, now it was as if she couldn't bare to be in here for longer than a few hours each day - only to dress, undress, and sleep. Perhaps it was not so bad after all that Melanie insisted on dragging her to those blasted receptions.

She looked up when Mammy came into the room with a massive dinner tray in her hands.

"Here's ma lamb's dinner," she announced, setting the tray down on the bed with a groan.

Scarlett smiled passively. "Thank you, Mammy. You may retire, I will have someone else take care of the tray."

The old woman glanced at her with knowing eyes. After long years of looking after Scarlett, she was used to her protégé's quick temper and infamous mood swings, and had developed elaborate strategies to deal with any given situation. But as of late Scarlett usually looked so spent and sullen when she came home that Mammy was more than a little anxious. She had an inkling as to what was causing her mistress so much distress, apart from the almost daily socialising, but Mammy never broached the topic. Scarlett had made no attempt so far to talk to her about Mister Rhett and Bonnie's absence, let alone her feelings on the matter, and it was beneath the old woman's dignity to blurt out her opinion without being asked first.

When Mammy made no move to leave immediately, Scarlett's black brows flew together in a sudden fit of irritation.

"Well? Would you please leave me alone?"

Mammy obeyed unwillingly, shaking her head and muttering to herself as she excited the room and closed the door behind her.

The second it fell shut, Scarlett's shoulders slumped. She breathed a sigh of relief. Under Mammy's watchful eyes, piercing her with all the sharp instinct of the African race, she could never truly relax, so irritating was the feeling that the old darkie knew everything and was just too kind to utter any of her secret thoughts.

Scarlett took a fork from the dinner tray and began to eat listlessly, leaving half of the meal on the plate. The coffee she gulped down greedily, though, relishing its fine taste on her tongue. She called for Pansy once more to get rid of the tray, then moved over to her vanity table and sat down on the cushioned stool standing before it.

"You want me to brush your hair, Miss Scarlett?" The maid asked, tray in hand.

"No," Scarlett put her off, "I'll be fine. Go to bed, Pansy."

Finally alone in the reddish brightness of the lamp on the table, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was pale and drawn, in dire need of some rouge. Her tired eyes seemed unfamiliar, not at all like the famed green gems that were Scarlett O'Hara's.

She removed the pins from her luxurious hair and let it fall over her shoulders, reaching for the hairbrush to give it the obligatory one hundred strokes. Pulling the brush through the long strands, she tried in vain to push away the thought of _him _any longer. He had always loved brushing her hair, doubtlessly for some mysterious reason of his own. He would brush the dark tresses until they crackled, tenderly running his hands through them as he did so.

_Damn him. _

She despised herself for thinking about him. With all her heart she wanted to hate him or, better still, push him out of her treacherous mind entirely - but to no avail. Every evening before she went to bed, the blackguard would find a way to infiltrate into her thoughts like poison.

He had been gone for four weeks now.

Scarlett had no idea where he was, nor had she heard a single word from him since his departure. Judging from what he'd said to her before he stormed out of her room the day after _that _night - that terrible, beautiful, invigorating night - she assumed he was staying with his mother or somewhere in New Orleans.

"_I'm going to Charleston and New Orleans and - oh, well, a very extended trip." _

Charleston, New Orleans and - and what? What was the third destination he had considered? She did not know and she did not like the thought that she actually cared. _Why_ did she care? He had made it is habit over the years, both before and during their marriage, to come and go as he pleased; he had left and re-entered her life so many times, she had come to terms with it and hardly ever asked for his motives. But this time, it was different.

His absence dragged on, and on and no matter how much she tried to deny it, she felt completely and utterly abandoned. She was downright lonely without him and Bonnie. She missed the child's sweet laughter, her high spirits and charming ways, so much like Scarlett's own. Rhett's last words about Wade and Ella had opened her eyes to the galling truth that she had failed to bond with them as she should have. They were afraid of her, and although she would have liked to tell herself that her past treatment of them had nothing to do with their trepidation and shyness in her presence, she could not fool herself in this matter. Her failings as a parent had resulted in Wade and Ella's anxiety of her, their own mother. She had never taken much notice of them before, had never attempted to get to know them. And now, now that her favourite child was far away and she had turned to her older children for comfort, helpless in the face of her loneliness, she realized with bitter clarity that they had no comfort to give to a mother who had fed them and clothed them but never really been part of their lives. She guessed they probably loved her, deep in their hearts, but it was not enough to bond with her any time soon, especially when Scarlett was as impatient as she was, as easily irritated by their childish ways, their foolishness. No, their presence in the house was no consolation to her, now that Bonnie was gone. She felt another pang of guilt at the realization that she did not favour her children as much as her youngest, but she could not help it - Bonnie had all the charm, the vivacity and the gumption Wade and Ella lacked.

As for Rhett himself - out of the welter of rapture and anger and heartbreak and hurt pride that he had left, depression emerged to sit upon her shoulder like a carrion crow. All too soon her anger abated, the heartbreak remained, and she began to miss him, miss him terribly, until the very thought of him made her ache with the pain of his absence. Her longing for him could only be compared to her occasional desire for a drink: acute, forbidden, and ultimately destructive.

She hated feeling so vulnerable, so exposed to this kind of weakness she had never experienced before, but at the same time she was addicted to the pain, the exquisite pain, of yearning for someone so unattainable. She would have given anything to have him look at her with those black, impenetrable eyes, tease her, make her laugh at his absurd jokes. She would even let him berate her and bring her to the edge with one of his biting remarks, _anything_ - if only she could see his swarthy face again and be close to him.

This was not a pleasant thought.

It was anything but, and from time to time she would make an effort to fight the idea that she might be wanting Rhett with all the force her iron will could muster. She was not supposed to feel this way: weak, needy, foolish. Scarlett O'Hara was no fool. Women prone to such pathetic antics had always been an object of ridicule to her, and now she had to face the fact that she was equally capable of such frailties. She was in a situation she could not control, and it drove her mad, for she coveted being in control. To be master of her own little world was essential to her very being, but now that she was robbed of this security, she felt as if she were treading on thin ice, with nothing to hold on to. Rhett had the upper hand even in his absence, God curse him.

She thought about him often, pondering a thousand questions to which she found no reasonable answers. Her days were spent wondering, woolgathering even, which was completely unusual for her. In the most trivial situations, be it at the store or elsewhere, she would be reminded of a particular encounter with Rhett, or live again through years and years of their acquiantance, trying to figure out what it really was that made her miss him so much. At night she would toss and turn in her bed, trying to figure out what Rhett was thinking, somewhere in Charleston, New Orleans or even Paris - or God knows where. Did he miss her too? _No, no, it can't be... He doesn't want me. _Was he as lonely as she was, longing for her as she longed for him? Or was he doing the unspeakable, running around with prostitutes? _After all, he went from me to that Watling woman after ... after... _ Whenever she thought of this, images of his hands on other women's bodies would flash before her eyes and she would clench her fist under the sheets until it hurt. Eventually, when she had tortured her brain for hours and hours with an endless succession of arguments and objections, her nerves would give way to the strain and she would fall into a troubled sleep. But it was no use, for even in her dreams Rhett would not leave her alone.

She had considered talking to Mammy about it. Never one to analyse or even comprehend her own feelings, Scarlett had no means to deal with the emotional turmoil she was in, and she felt the desperate need for someone else's advice. But she was no longer a child of sixteen and it seemed inappropriate to her to unburden herself to the old servant, no matter how much she loved and trusted her. With Mammy ruled out, there was only one other person in Atlanta she could possibly consult - Melanie. But Scarlett was reluctant to bother her sister-in-law yet again.

Immediately after Rhett's hasty departure, consumed by guilt, she had hurried to the unassuming little house and thrown herself at Melanie's feet, intending to reveal everything there was to say about herself and Ashley. But Melanie had rebuffed her, robbing her forever of the chance to tell the absolute truth.

Ever since that day, four weeks ago, Melly had been busy dragging her to every parlor in Atlanta in an attempt to rectify Scarlett's tarnished reputation, ever loyal in her strong belief that the evil talk about Scarlett and Ashley was nothing but idle gossip. As a consequence, the two women saw each other almost daily but hardly ever got the chance to speak more than a few words in private. Often, when they were sitting in some stuffy room or other, bent over their needlework or conversing with the ladies of their acquaintance, Scarlett would look up and glance at Melanie, wishing she could muster up the courage to talk to her about Rhett's absence. But somehow the right moment never came, and in the evenings, riding home together in Scarlett's carriage, tired after hours of socializing, she usually felt too drained to approach the topic.

No, she was not brave enough to talk about it, shameful though it was. Also, as long as she did not know where she stood with Ashley, she was loath to enter his house more times than necessary. Her thoughts hardly ever drifted to him these days, and she had no desire to deal with the guilt she would undoubtedly find in his eyes.

So what was there to do?

Apparantly, there was no one she could turn to without fear of rejection or embarrassment, and for the first time in years she felt the bitterness of her alienation. She had too lightly abandoned her childhood friends, too easily cut the ties to polite society in the vain belief she could weather all storms of life alone. There was no circle of friends now to distract her from her cares, and the thought pained her.

The comfort of Melanie's advice was out of her reach, to Mammy she would not confess, and her mother, the one other woman who would surely have an answer to all her questions, was long dead.

There was no one.

_Unless..._

Unless she could talk to _him. _

Scarlett, who had been brushing her hair, halted abruptly. She looked at her surprised face in the vanity mirror, eyes wide open. No, this was out of the question. It was not an option. Definitely not.

Or was it?

She bit her lips in agitation, letting go of the hairbrush. It slipped out of her hand and fell onto the plush carpet with a thud, but she did not even notice.

_I could go after him. _

She frowned, pondering her chances.

_I don't know exactly where he is, but I'm sure I could find out from Uncle Henry. Or I could telegraph his mother. I could... _

As the ideas went swiftly in and out of her head, she realized that there was nothing that kept her in Atlanta anyway. She was tired, so very tired, of the constant social calls on women who tolerated her only out of affection for Melanie. Hugh and Ashley would be there to look after the mills during her absence, and the clerks at the store could manage on their own for a couple of weeks. The children would be alright with Mammy and the other maids to look after them, and she could not care less about the house that seemed so stifling and empty without Rhett and Bonnie in it.

Bonnie! Oh, it would be heavenly to see the sweet little thing again, lively, boisterous, so unlike Wade and Ella!

And as for Rhett... The thought of seeing him alone made her tingle with excitement. Oh, to be enfolded in his strong arms again and bury her face in his neck... To smell his familiar scent of liquor and horses and cigars that always comforted her. To feel him. She could not help thinking of _that _night again and her reflection in the mirror blushed a deep shade of red.

But it was not just that. Talking to him was something she'd always enjoyed, for he was the only person in the world she couldn't shock with her revelations, and his advice was always sound. Now, although he was the chief cause of her confusion and heartache, she longed for nothing more than to speak with him and tell him of her troubles. Strange though it was, he was the only light after all other lights had gone out, the only refuge in a hostile world. He would understand. He must understand. Perhaps... perhaps there was even a chance that...

_No. _

She wouldn't permit herself to entertain such thoughts. But, looking into the vanity mirror once more and seeing her hopeful expression, she realized dimly that she wanted there to _be_ a chance_. _She did not know what kind of chance, nor did she dare to delve any further into her psyche, but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had to see Rhett. If she did not go after him, she would eat herself alive in this house, her fruitless musings consuming her.

_What's more, Rhett could stay away forever, and I'd never see him again_.

And she wanted to see him. She did not know why, she did not know what she felt for him, and yet she knew she needed to be close to him. She wanted it more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. And although her pride, ever faithful a companion, told her to stay away, to never go after him because he might realize she felt something, anything, for him, the urge to be in his presence once more was so much stronger, reason be damned.

_I will go, _she thought defiantly, her feline eyes narrowing slightly. _I'll go after him, and then... _

She had no idea what to say to him, but she would figure that out later. After all, there would be plenty of time to come up with an exact plan. And a plan she needed - it would do her no good to deal with Rhett Butler without any sort of preparation.

Strangely relieved, she picked up the hairbrush and continued combing out her long dark tresses.

First thing in the morning, she would see Henry Hamilton and extract a confession from him. She was sure that Rhett had instructed the old lawyer to keep his whereabouts a secret, but she was not Scarlett O'Hara for nothing. _You've got more charm than the law allows, _she remembered Rhett saying. Yes, she would turn on the charm and if she had to bully Henry into confessing where Rhett was, she would not mind either. It would be humiliating to admit to Aunt Pitty's brother, of all people, that she had no idea where her own husband resided at the moment, but for some strange reason she did not really give a damn. If there was no other way, then so be it.

Afterwards, she would have to go with Melanie to another meeting for the Beautification of the Graves of the Glorious Dead, presided over by Mrs. Merriweather. She disliked those meetings more than all the others combined, considering the fact that the old lady was the most overbearing matriarch in the whole of Georgia. Scarlett never failed to be annoyed at that woman's meddling, her petty morals and bossy ways. But she had promised Melanie, and it was the only opportunity to talk to her sister-in-law without having to enter the Wilkes's house. Now that she had set her mind to it, Scarlett wanted to leave Atlanta as soon as possible, and she had only a limited amount of time at her disposal in order to arrange everything.

She would tell Melly of her plans on the ride home, and if the fool should protest, insisting that Scarlett should not travel alone, she would simply lie and say that Rhett had written to her, asking her to come after him and that he would meet her halfway. She thought that perhaps she should also urge Melanie to check on Wade and Ella from time to time, for she could not suppress the pang of conscience she felt at the thought of leaving them behind. But it would be too strenuous to travel with two young children, and she had long since made up her mind that she would be going alone.

Scarlett hoped she would be ready to set out the day after tomorrow. Packing her things would not take long - the problem was Mammy, who would certainly put up some resistance. She would insist on accompanying her 'lamb', but her protests would not help her. Scarlett was determined to stand her ground.

_I wonder where he is, _she mused, her thoughts wandering back to her voaying husband.

If Rhett was in still in America, perhaps even in the South, things would not be too difficult, she figured. On the other hand, if he was in Europe, she would have to get to Charleston first and there board a ship that would carry her over the Atlantic. The thought of being stuck on a ship for two weeks did not exactly excite her, but the proposal of seeing a city like Paris or London was tempting enough. She had only ever really left Georgia on her honeymoon with Rhett and she was definitely ready for another adventure. Of course, it would be exhausting and not a little dangerous to travel all by herself, and there was always the possiblity of missing Rhett. Once she got to London, he might as well have left for Spain or the devil knows where the day before her arrival - but she had to take the risk. If he wasn't there when she arrived, then God damn him. She would enjoy herself nonetheless.

Suppressing a yawn, Scarlett put aside the hairbrush and rose from the vanity. She extinguished the lamp before she made her way over to her massive bed. Carelessly, she dropped her luxurious dressing gown to the floor and slipped under the covers.

Resting her head on one of the fluffy pillows, she smiled into the darkness. She felt a lot better now that she had found something to occupy her time with, something worth her energy. The prospect of leaving Atlanta suddenly seemed so desirous to her, she did not know how to endure the days until her departure. But somehow she'd manage, and then she'd leave it all behind for a blissful little while... This house. The endless prattle and sewing in old-fashioned parlors. The Old Guard. Ashley.

Why Ashley, of all people, should be part of the list of things that were so annoying to her, she did not know, but indeed it was so. It was not him she had been longing for these past weeks. Involuntarily, she reached out her hand under the blanket to touch the spot where Rhett had lain _that_ night. It was cold, and she curled her fingers as if to punish the sheets for his absence. Well, it wouldn't be long now before she saw him again, would it? She could see his chiselled face before her mind's eye, surprised at her sudden appearance, his shocked expression turning into one of pleasure as he looked at her with those coal-black eyes.

She smiled again, a curious smile, which, if Rhett had seen it, would have amused him greatly. It was the smile of a satisfied child relying on its lucky stars, eliminating the possibility of defeat. Scarlett O'Hara had set her mind on the task of finding her husband and she did not plan on losing. Here was a woman of fierce ambition, who had faced greater hardships than travelling the world to find a scoundrel like Rhett Butler. She was ready to go on a trip.

_And no one will stop me. _

Finally, fatigue overwhelmed her and her eyes fell shut. An expression of innocence transformed her arresting face into a doll's countenance, only sharper, like that of a girl who had seen too much and now found rest only in the blissful world of slumber. And indeed, Scarlett slept, slept until the morning light, untroubled by nightmares. For once, Rhett Butler did not haunt her dreams.

Had he been aware of her plans, not drinking himself into a stupor in his bedroom in Charleston, he probably would have wished her good luck, his trademark half-smile on his lips:

_"Bon voyage, my pet. I can't promise I'll be waiting for you, but I know you'll find me anyway. You know how the saying goes, don't you? 'Journeys end in lovers' meeting; every wise man's son doth know.'"_

* * *

_**Author's note: **_

_**OKAY, I know I'm insane. I've got my hands full with my other stories yet here I am, posting a new one. In my defense - I was just randomly browsing through the documents on my computer when I found this and I was kind of intrigued - I had totally forgotten about it! Anyway, I don't think this should be decomposing on my harddrive, so I've decided to give it a go and I'm actually really excited about it.**_

_**As you probably know by now, it is set after **_**that **_**night. Scarlett has not consulted Dr. Meade yet, so she's not aware that she's pregnant (I doubt she would have decided to travel otherwise).**_

_**It's certainly not going to be totally fluffy but not too dark either. It's supposed to be more of an adventure-thing with a lot of traveling and, of course, a healthy amount of good old Scarlett-Rhett drama involved. No offense, but I'm getting so tired of the usual Atlanta setting... I'm talking Rhett wanting Scarlett to stay at home while she's pregnant and forbidding her to use her carriage, the uptightness of the Old Guard and the general dullness of it all. So yeah, I know how Scarlett feels about it, but I can't wait to go on that trip either! Wanna come along for the ride? **_

_**By the way, the quote at the end is Shakespeare. I also sneaked in one of MM's own quotes from the book. Can you find it? :) **_

_**Thanks for reading and please keep in touch. Remember, I'm not a fast updater. I apologize in advance. **_


End file.
